


Jumpheight

by SassafrassRex (Serbajean)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Exactly What It Says on the Tin, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, in case it implodes into a ghost town, tumblr exodus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 13:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16874022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serbajean/pseuds/SassafrassRex
Summary: Nothing deep, they climb a wall.Originallyhere.





	Jumpheight

 

A wall.

Shiro and Ulaz sprinted around a corner and there, right in front of them… a wall.

Smooth, featureless, twentysome feet high, guardrail at the top of it. Separating the walk they were on— _down here_ —from the walkway they needed to be on— _up there._

… And Shiro’s jetpack already out of action (something that seemed to happen entirely too often on missions. He should get that looked at).

… And (because  _of course)_ the armor’s grappling hook already jammed, due to earlier _unfortunate circumstances,_  in the form of one very heavy, very grabby Galra, tackling Shiro midair and forcing it to bear too much weight. The Galra definitely got the worst of that encounter, but the hook was out of commission. 

“Shit.” Catching his breath, Shiro chuckled at Ulaz, “So. What’s your jumpheight?”

“Roughly my own height. More with a running start, but not enough for this.”

 _Damn._ “Yeah, mine’s only about chest-level.” Was a bit of a forlorn hope anyway. Galra were big. Big meant heavy, meant unfavorable strength-to-weight ratio, meant  _need another plan._

Shiro darted forward to place an experimental hand against the wall. The telltale ache bloomed at the base of his skull as he lit the prosthetic up, hoping maybe… but he stepped back with a huff. No dice. Someone on Team Empire must have been taking notes. Shiro anticipated he’d probably just knock himself out before he managed to melt handholds into  _this._

God, a fucking  _wall._ They had—Shiro checked his mask display—twelve dovashes, to get where they needed to be. Which meant that in twelve dovashes, one tick, Shiro and Ulaz would have officially been thwarted by one of the oldest, simplest defenses in the history of all civilized society.

“Okay,” he clapped his hands together, pointing them at Ulaz, “back against the wall.”

“What?”

“You, boost me up.” Ulaz was pretty strong, he could probably do it. “Then you,” he double-checked, “wallrun, corner, wallrun.” He illustrated, pointing to the wall beside them, to the corner, to the wall in front. “High as you can get, and I’ll reach down and grab you.”

Ulaz stared, “You think it will work?”

“… Sure. Yeah, Matt and I did it at the Garrison, when we were climbing the outside of the Mess hall. It’s fine.”

Ulaz stood, back planted against the wall, reaching out both hands.

Shiro stepped back. He had maybe three strides worth of a run-up. Cramped but good enough. He stuck his head around the corner. Still clear.

_Yeah, it’ll work fine._

Then one deep breath. He nodded to Ulaz, and one step – two – _three_ –

And Ulaz boosted him up hard enough he felt his spine bend.

It carried him just high enough to close both hands over the top.

_Shit, no need to put me into orbit!_

_What was that? ‘Thank you, Shiro, for getting my boney ass up here?’ Why, you’re welcome, Matt._

Hand over hand, he walked himself sideways until he reached one of the struts, supporting the railing. Then he hiked himself up, got his elbows over the top, and he was there.

Lying on his stomach, he wrapped his right arm around the support (brief visions of it getting ripped off his elbow meant he wasn’t about to extend it to Ulaz), then stretched the other down as far as he could.

“Okay, go.”

Ulaz took it at a run, caught the side wall, then caught the corner, then came across, headed straight for Shiro.

So, it actually took them two tries.

But on that second try (kicking gravity right in the face), Ulaz pushed himself _just_ that last inch higher, Shiro stretched his hand _just_ that last bit lower, palm slapped forearm and held fast. 

And then the  _yank._

_Hero momen– oh fuck!_

_Shit, don’t let–_

Good thing Shiro had his other arm anchored, because  _godfuckingdamn_ was Ulaz heavy. Odds were _not_ favorable for pulling him up with one arm (unless Shiro wanted to also throw his own back out). So, Shiro just gritted his teeth and concentrated on holding on, letting Ulaz deal with hauling himself up.

_Ack!– climb faster– Fuck, are you even–_

_Twig. Shit just– hang on–_

Shiro owed Matt a(nother) apology.  

Ulaz hooked a heel over the edge, then _finally_ he was up. Shiro flopped over like a dead fish, breathing hard before slowly hauling himself upright. His whole arm was tingling, from aching shoulder all the way down to his buzzing fingers.

_Am I lopsided? Shiro, I think I’m lopsided, is one arm longer?_

_Probably. Come on._

Seven dovashes left now. Ulaz pulled Shiro the rest of the way to standing (by the other arm, thank God).

And they were off.

 

* * *

 

Much, much later (after they’d made it with an entire dovash and a half to spare, thankyouverymuch), safely back at the Castle, Ulaz was doing Shiro the _wonderful_ favor of gently massaging the life back into his shoulder.

Totally uncalled for, to be honest. He hadn’t torn anything (and if he had, this wouldn’t be right management, anyway). Sure, it had _felt_ pretty shitty but Ulaz, though heavy, hadn’t actually done any damage. Shiro was fine.

But given the butterfly kisses brushing along the nape of his neck, and given Ulaz’s blessedly warm hands, fat chance of Shiro mentioning that.

 

 


End file.
